Chapter IV: Part 4

"Peter!" quod a plowman,
And putte forth his hed,
"I knowe hym as kyndely
As clerk doth hise bokes; 3580
Conscience and kynde wit
Kenned me to his place,
And diden me suren hym sikerly
To serven hym for evere,
Bothe to sowe and to sette,
The while I swynke myghte.
I have ben his folwere
Al this fifty wynter,
Bothe y-sowen his seed,
And suwed hise beestes, 3590
Withinne and withouten
Waited his profit.
I dyke and I delve,
I do that Truthe hoteth;
Som tyme I sowe,
And som tyme I thresshe;
In taillours craft and tynkeris craft,
What Truthe kan devyse,
I weve and I wynde,
And do what Truthe hoteth, 3600
For though I seye it myselfe,
I serve hym to paye;
I have myn hire wel,
And outher whiles moore.
He is the presteste paiere
That povere men knoweth;
He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire,
That he ne hath it at even;
{111}
He is as lowe as a lomb,
And lovelich of speche; 3610
And if ye wilneth to wite
Where that he dwelleth,
I shal wisse you witterly
The wey to his place."

"Ye, leve Piers," quod thise pilgrimes,
And profred hym huyre,
For to wende with hem
To Truthes dwellyng-place.

"Nay, by my soules helpe!" quod Piers,
And gan for to swere, 3620
"I nolde fange a ferthyng.
For seint Thomas shryne;
Truthe wolde love me the lasse
A long tyme therafter;
Ac if yow wilneth to wende wel,
This is the wey thider.

"Ye moten go thorugh Mekenesse,
Both men and wyves,
Til ye come into Conscience,
That Crist wite the sothe 3630
That ye loven oure Lord God
Levest of alle thynges,
And thanne youre neghebores next
In none wise apeire,
Other wise than thow woldest
He wroughte to thiselve.

"And so boweth forth by a brook,
Beth-buxom-of-speche,
Til he fynden a ford,
Youre-fadres-honoureth, 3640
_Honora patrem et matrem, etc._
Wadeth in that water,
{112}
And wasshe yow wel therinne,
And ye shul lepe the lightloker
Al youre lif tyme;
And so shaltow se Swere-noght,-
But-if-it-be-for-nede,-
And-nameliche-on-ydel-
The-name-of-God-almyghty.

"Thanne shaltow come by a croft, 3650
But come thow noght therinne;
That croft hatte Coveite-noght-
Mennes-catel-ne-hire-wyves,-
Ne-noon-of-hire-servauntz-
That-noyen-hem-myghte;
Loke ye breke no bowes there,
But if it be youre owene.

"Two stokkes ther stondeth,
Ac stynte ye noght there,
Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght, 3660
Strik forth by bothe,
And leve hem on thi lift half,
And loke noght therafter,
And hold wel thyn hali-day
Heighe til even.

"Thanne shaltow blenche at a bergh,
Bere-no-fals-witnesse,
He is frythed in with floryns
And othere fees manye;
Loke thow plukke no plaunte there, 3670
For peril of thi soule;
Thanne shul ye see Seye-sooth,-
So-it-be-to-doone,-
In-good-manere,-ellis-noght-
For-no-mannes-biddyng.

"Thanne shaltow come to a court
{113}
As cler as the sonne;
The moot is of Mercy
The manoir aboute,
And alle the walles ben of Wit, 3680
To holden Wil oute,
And kerneled wit Cristendom,
Mankynde to save,
Botrased with Bileef-so,-
Or-thow-beest-noght-saved.

"And alle the houses ben hiled,
Halles and chambres,
With no leed but with love,
And lowe speche as bretheren;
The brugg is of Bidde-wel,- 3690
The-bet-may-thow-spede;
Ech piler is of penaunce,
Of preieres to seyntes;
Of almes-dedes are the hokes
That the gates hangen on.

"Grace hatte the gatewarde,
A good man for sothe;
His man hatte Amende-yow,
For many men hym knoweth;
Telleth hym this tokene, 3700
That Truthe wite the sothe;
'I perfourned the penaunce
That the preest me enjoyned,
And am ful sory for my synnes,
And so I shal evere,
Whan I thynke theron,
Theigh I were a pope.'

"Biddeth Amende-yow meke hym
Til his maister ones,
To wayven up the wiket 3710
{114}
That the womman shette,
Tho Adam and Eve
Eten apples un-rosted.
_Per Evam cunctis clausa est, et per
Mariam virginem patefacta est._

"For he hath the keye and the cliket,
Though the kyng slepe.
And if grace graunte thee
To go in this wise,
Thow shalt see in thiselve 3720
Truthe in thyn herte,
In a cheyne of charité
As thow a child were,
To suffren hym and segge noght
Ayein thi sires wille.

"And be war thanne of Wrathe-thee,
That is a wikked sherewe;
He hath envye to hym
That in thyn herte sitteth,
And poketh forth pride 3730
To preise thiselven.
The boldnesse of thi bienfetes
Maketh thee blynd thanne;
And thanne worstow dryven out as dew,
And the dore closed,
Keyed and cliketted,
To kepe thee withouten;
Happily an hundred wynter
Er thow eft entre.
Thus myghtestow lesen his love, 3740
To lete wel by thiselve,
And nevere happily eft entre,
But grace thow have.

"And ther are seven sustren
{115}
That serven Truthe evere,
And arn porters of the posternes
That to the place longeth.

"That oon hatte Abstinence,
And Humilité another;
Charité and Chastité 3750
Ben hise chief maydenes;
Pacience and Pees
Muche peple thei helpeth;
Largenesse the lady,
She let in ful manye,
Heo hath holpe a thousand out
Of the develes punfolde;
And who is sib to thise sevene,
So me God helpe!
He is wonderly welcome, 3760
And faire underfongen.
And but if ye be sibbe
To some of thise sevene,
It is ful hard, by myn heed!" quod Piers,
"For any of yow alle
To geten in-going at any gate there,
But grace be the moore."

"Now by Crist!" quod a kutte-purs
"I have no kyn there."
"Nor I," quod an ape-ward, 3770
"By aught that I kan knowe."
"Wite God!" quod a wafrestere,
"Wiste I this for sothe,
Sholde I nevere ferther a foot,
For no freres prechyng."

"Yis," quod Piers the Plowman,
And poked hem alle to goode,
"Mercy is a maiden there
{116}
Hath myght over alle;
And she is sib to alle synfulle, 3780
And hire sone also,
And thorugh the help of hem two
Hope thow noon oother,
Thow myght gete grace there,
So thow go bi-tyme."

"Bi seint Poul!" quod a pardoner,
"Peraventure I be noght knowe there;
I wol go fecche my box with my brevettes,
And a bulle with bisshopes lettres."

"By Crist!" quod a commune womman,
"Thi compaignie wol I folwe;
Thow shalt seye I am thi suster,
I ne woot where thei bicome." 3793

* * * * *

{117}

_Passus Sextus de Visione, ut supra._

"This were a wikkede wey, 3794
But who so hadde a gyde,
That wolde folwen us ech a foot;"
Thus this folke hem mened.

Quod Perkyn the Plowman,
"By seint Peter of Rome!
I have an half acre to erie 3800
By the heighe weye;
Hadde I eryed this half acre,
And sowen it after,
I wolde wende with yow,
And the wey teche."

"This were a long lettyng,"
Quod a lady in scleyre,
"What sholde we wommen
Werche the while?"

"Somme shul sowe the sak," quod Piers, 3810
"For shedyng of the whete;
And ye, lovely ladies,
With youre longe fyngres,
That ye have silk and sandel
To sowe, whan tyme is;
Chesibles for chapeleyns,
Chirches to honoure.
{118}

"Wyves and widewes,
Wolle and flex spynneth;
Maketh cloth, I counseille yow, 3820
And kenneth so youre doughtres;
The nedy and the naked,
Nymeth hede how thei liggeth,
And casteth hem clothes,
For so comaundeth Truthe.
For I shal leven hem liflode,
But if the lond faille,
Flesshe and breed bothe
To riche and to poore,
As long as I lyve, 3830
For the Lordes love of hevene;
And alle manere of men
That thorugh mete and drynke libbeth,
Helpeth hym to werche wightliche,
That wynneth youre foode."

"By Crist!" quod a knyght thoo,
"He kenneth us the beste;
Ac on the teme, trewely,
Taught was I nevere;
But kenne me," quod the knyght, 3840
"And by Crist I wole assaye!"

"By seint Poul!" quod Perkyn,
"Ye profre yow so faire,
That I shal swynke and swete,
And sowe for us bothe,
And othere labours do for thi love
Al my lif tyme,
In covenaunt that thow kepe
Holy kirke and myselve
Fro wastours and fro wikked men 3850
That this world destruyeth.
{119}
And go hunte hardiliche
To hares and to foxes,
To bores and to brokkes
That breken doun myne hegges;
And so affaite thi faucons
Wilde foweles to kille;
For swiche cometh to my croft,
And croppeth my whete."

Curteisly the knyght thanne 3860
Comsed thise wordes;
"By my power, Piers!" quod he,
"I plighte thee my trouthe,
To fulfille this forwarde,
Though I fighte sholde;
Als longe as I lyve
I shal thee mayntene."

"Ye, and yet a point," quod Piers,
"I preye yow of moore,
Loke ye tene no tenaunt, 3870
But Truthe wole assente;
And though ye mowe amercy hem,
Lat mercy be taxour,
And mekenesse thi maister,
Maugree Medes chekes.
And though povere men profre yow
Presentes and giftes,
Nyme it noght, an aventure
Ye mowe it noght deserve;
For thow shalt yelde it ayein 3880
At one yeres tyme,
In a ful perilous place,
Purgatorie it hatte.

"And mys-bede noght thi bonde-men,
The bettre may thow spede;
{120}
Though he be thyn underlyng here,
Wel may happe in hevene
That he worth worthier set,
And with moore blisse.
_Amice, ascende superius._ 3890
For in charnel at chirche
Cherles ben yvel to knowe,
Or a knyght from a knave there,
Knowe this in thyn herte.
And that thow be trewe of thi tonge,
And tales that thow hatie,
But if thei ben of wisdom or of wit
Thi werkmen to chaste.
Hold with none harlotes,
Ne here noght hir tales, 3900
And namely at the mete
Swiche men eschuwe;
For it ben the develes disours,
I do the to understonde."

"I assente, by seint Jame!"
Seide the knyght thanne,
"For to werche by thi wordes
The while my lif dureth."

"And I shal apparaille me," quod Perkyn,
"In pilgrymes wise, 3910
And wende with yow I wile,
Til we fynde Truthe;
And caste on my clothes
Y-clouted and hole,
My cokeres and my coffes,
For cold of my nailes;
And hange myn hoper at myn hals
In stede of a scryppe.
A busshel of bred corn
{121}
Brynge me therinne; 3920
For I wol sowe it myself,
And sithenes wol I wende
To pilgrymage, as palmeres doon,
Pardon for to have.
And who so helpeth me to erie
And sowen here er I wende,
Shal have leve, by oure Lorde!
To lese here in hervest,
And make hem murie thermyd,
Maugree who so bi-gruccheth it. 3930
And alle kynne crafty-men,
That konne lyven in truthe,
I shal fynden hem fode,
That feithfulliche libbeth.

"Save Jagge the jogelour,
And Jonette of the stuwes,
And Danyel the dees-pleyere,
And Denote the baude,
And frere the faitour,
And folk of hire ordre, 3940
And Robyn the ribaudour
For hise rusty wordes.
Truthe tolde me ones,
And bad me telle it after,
_Deleantur de libro viventium_,
I sholde noght dele with hem,
For holy chirche is hote of hem
No tithe to take;
_Qui cum justis non scribantur_;
They ben ascaped good aventure, 3950
God hem amende!"

Dame Werch-whan-tyme-is
Piers wif highte;
{122}
His doughter highte Do-right-so,-
Or-thi-dame-shal-thee-bete;
His sone highte Suffre-thi-sovereyns-
To-haven-hir-wille,-
Deme-hem-noght,-for-if-thow-doost,-
Thow-shalt-it-deere-abugge.
Lat God y-worthe with al, 3960
For so his word techeth;
For now I am old and hoor,
And have of myn owene,
To penaunce and to pilgrimage
I wol passe with thise othere.

"For-thi I wole er I wende
Do write my biqueste,
_In Dei nomine, Amen_,
I make it myselve;
He shal have my soule, 3970
That best hath deserved it;
And fro the fend it defende,
For so I bileve,
Til I come to hise acountes,
As my Credo me telleth,
To have a relees and a remission,
On that rental I leve.

"The kirke shal have my caroyne,
And kepe my bones;
For of my corn and catel 3980
She craved the tithe;
I paide it ful prestly,
For peril of my soule.
For-thi is he holden I hope
To have me in his masse,
And mengen in his memorie
Amonges alle cristene.
{123}

"My wif shal have of that I wan
With truthe, and na-moore,
And dele among my doughtres, 3990
And my deere children;
For though I deye to day,
My dettes are quyte;
I bar hom that I borwed,
Er I to bedde yede.

"And with the residue and the remenaunt,
By the Rode of Lukes!
I wol worshipe therwith
Truthe by my lyve,
And ben his pilgrym atte plow, 4000
For povere mennes sake.
My plow-foot shall be my pikstaf,
And picche a-two the rotes,
And helpe my cultour to kerve
And clense the furwes."

Now is Perkyn and hise pilgrimes
To the plow faren;
To erie his half acre
Holpen hym manye;
Dikeres and delveres 4010
Digged up the balkes.
Therwith was Perkyn a-payed,
And preised hem faste.

Othere werkmen ther were
That wroghten ful yerne;
Ech man in his manere
Made hymself to doone,
And somme to plese Perkyn
Piked up the wedes.

At heigh prime Piers 4020
Leet the plowgh stonde,
{124}
To over-sen hem hymself,
And who so best wroghte
He sholde be hired therafter,
Whan hervest tyme come.

And thanne seten somme,
And songen atte nale,
And holpen ere this half acre
With "How, trolly lolly."

"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers, 4030
All in pure tene,
"But ye arise the rather
And rape yow to werche,
Shal no greyn that groweth
Glade yow at nede,
And though ye deye for doel,
The devel have that reccheth."

Tho were faitours a-fered,
And feyned hem blynde;
Somme leide hir legges a-liry, 4040
As swiche losels konneth,
And made hir mone to Piers,
And preide hym of grace;
"For we have no lymes to laboure with,
Lord, y-graced be the;
Ac we preie for yow, Piers,
And for youre plowgh bothe,
That God of his grace
Youre greyn multiplie,
And yelde yow for youre almesse 4050
That ye gyve us here;
For we may noght swynke ne swete,
Swich siknesse us eyleth."

"If it be sooth," quod Piers, "that ye seyn,
I shal it soone aspie.
{125}
Ye ben wastours, I woot wel,
And Truthe woot the sothe;
And I am his olde hyne,
And highte hym to warne,
Whiche thei were in this world 4060
Hise werkmen apeired.
Ye wasten that men wynnen
With travaille and with tene;
Ac Truthe shal teche yow
His teme to dryve,
Or ye shul eten barley breed,
And of the broke drynke.

"But if he be blynd or broke-legged,
Or bolted with irens,
He shall ete whete breed, 4070
And drynke with myselve,
Til God of his goodnesse
Amendement hym sende.
Ac ye myghte travaille, as Truthe wolde,
And take mete and hyre,
To kepe kyen in the feld,
The corn fro the beestes,
Diken or delven,
Or dyngen upon sheves,
Or helpe make morter, 4080
Or bere muk a-feld.

"In lecherie and in losengerie
Ye lyven, and in sleuthe;
And al is thorugh suffraunce,
That vengeaunce yow ne taketh.

"Ac ancres and heremites
That eten noght but at nones,
And na-moore er the morwe,
Myn almesse shul thei have,
{126}
And of catel to kepe hem with, 4090
That han cloistres and chirches.

"Ac Robert Renaboute
Shal noght have of myne,
Ne postles, but thei preche konne
And have power of the bisshope;
Thei shul have payn and potage,
And make hemself at ese,
For it is an unreasonable religion
That hath right noght of certein."

And thanne gan Wastour to wrathen hym, 4100
And wolde have y-foughte;
And to Piers the Plowman
He profrede his glove;
A bretoner, a braggere,
A-bosted Piers als,
And bad hym go pissen with his plowgh,
"For-pynede sherewe!
Wiltow or neltow,
We wol have oure wille
Of thi flour and of thi flesshe, 4110
Fecche whanne us liketh;
And maken us murye thermyde,
Maugree thi chekes."

Thanne Piers the Plowman
Pleyned hym to the knyghte,
To kepen hym as covenaunt was
Fro cursede sherewes,
And fro thise wastours wolves-kynnes
That maketh the world deere;
"For tho wasten and wynnen noght, 4120
And that ilke while
Worth nevere plentee among the peple,
{127}
The while my plowgh liggeth."

Curteisly the knyght thanne,
As his kynde wolde,
Warnede Wastour,
And wissed hym bettre,
"Or thow shalt abigge by the lawe,
By the ordre that I bere!"

"I was noght wont to werche," quod Wastour, 4130
"And now wol I noght bigynne;"
And leet light of the lawe,
And lasse of the knyghte;
And sette Piers at a pese,
And his plowgh bothe;
And manaced Piers and his men,
If thei mette eft soone.

"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers,
"I shal apeire yow alle;"
And houped after Hunger, 4140
That herde hym at the firste,
"A-wreke me of thise wastours," quod he,
"That this world shendeth."

Hunger in haste thoo
Hente Wastour by the wombe,
And wrong him so by the wombe,
That bothe hise eighen watrede.

He buffeted the bretoner
Aboute the chekes,
That he loked lik a lanterne 4150
Al his lif after.
He bette hem so bothe,
He brast ner hire guttes;
Ne hadde Piers with a pese loof
{128}
Preyed Hunger to cesse,
They hadde be dolven,
Ne deme thow noon oother.

"Suffre hem lyve," he seide,
"And lat hem ete with hogges,
Or ellis benes or bren 4160
Y-baken togideres,
Or ellis melk and mene ale;"
Thus preied Piers for hem.

Faitours for fere herof
Flowen into bernes,
And flapten on with flailes
Fro morwe til even;
That Hunger was noght so hardy
On hem for to loke,
For a potful of peses 4170
That Piers hadde y-maked.

An heep of heremytes
Henten hem spades,
And kitten hir copes,
And courtepies hem maked,
And wente as werkmen
With spades and with shoveles
And dolven and dikeden,
To dryve awey hunger.

Blynde and bed-reden 4180
Were bootned a thousande,
That seten to begge silver,
Soone were thei heeled;
For that was bake for bayarde,
Was boote for many hungry;
And many a beggere for benes
Buxum was to swynke;
And eche a povere man wel a-paied
{129}
To have pesen for his hyre,
And what Piers preide hem to do, 4190
As prest as a sperhauk;
And therof was Piers proud,
And putte hem to werke,
And yaf hem mete as he myghte aforthe,
And mesurable hyre.

Thanne had Piers pité,
And preide Hunger to wende
Hoom unto his owene yerd,
And holden hym there;
"For I am wel a-wroke 4200
Of wastours, thorugh thy myghte.
Ac I preie thee, er thow passe,"
Quod Piers to Hunger,
"Of beggeris and of bidderis
What best be to doone.
For I woot wel, be thow went,
Thei wol werche ful ille;
For meschief it maketh
Thei be so meke nouthe,
And for defaute of hire foode 4210
This folk is at my wille.

"Thei are my blody bretheren," quod Piers,
"For God boughte us alle.
Truthe taughte me ones
To loven hem echone;
And to helpen hem of alle thyng
Ay as hem nedeth.
And now wolde I wite of thee
What were the beste;
And how I myghte a-maistren hem, 4220
And make hem to werche."
{130}

"Here now," quod Hunger,
"And hoold it for a wisdom;
Bolde beggeris and bigge
That mowe hir breed bi-swynke,
With houndes breed and horse breed
Hoold up hir hertes;
A-bate hem with benes,
For bollynge of hir wombes;
And if the gomes grucche, 4230
Bidde hem go swynke,
And he shal soupe swetter
Whan he it hath deserved.

"And if thow fynde any freke
That fortune hath apeired,
Or any manere false men,
Fonde thow swiche to knowe;
Conforte hym with thi catel,
For Cristes love of hevene;
Love hem and leve hem, 4240
So lawe of God techeth,
_Alter alterius onera portare._

"And alle manere of men
That thow myght aspie,
That nedy ben and noughty,
Help hem with thi goodes;
Love hem and lakke hem noght,
Lat God take the vengeaunce;
Theigh thei doon yvele,
Lat God y-worthe. 4250
_Mihi vindictam, et ego retribuam._

"And if thow wilt be gracious to God,
Do as the gospel techeth,
And bi-love thee amonges lewed men,
So shaltow lacche grace;
{131}
_Facite vos amicos de Mammone iniquitatis._" =

"I wolde noght greve God," quod Piers,
"For al the good on grounde.
Mighte I synne-lees do as thow seist?" 4260
Seide Piers thanne.

"Ye, I bi-hote thee," quod Hunger,
"Or ellis the Bible lieth;
Go to Genesis the geaunt,
The engendrour of us alle:
_In sudore_ and swynk
Thow shalt thi mete tilie,
And laboure for thi liflode,
And so oure Lorde highte.
And Sapience seith the same, 4270
I seigh it in the Bible,
_Piger præ frigore_
No feeld nolde tilie,
And therfore he shal begge and bidde,
And no man bete his hunger.

"Mathew with mannes face
Mouthed thise wordes,
That _servus nequam_ hadde a mnam,
And for he wolde noght chaffare,
He hadde maugree of his maister 4280
Evere moore after,
And by-nam hym his mnam,
For he ne wolde werche,
And yaf that mnam to hym
That ten mnames hadde;
And with that he seide,
That holy chirche it herde,
He that hath shal have
And helpe there it nedeth;
{132}
And he that noght hath shal noght have, 4290
And no man hym helpe,
And that he weneth wel to have
I wole it hym bi-reve.
Kynde wit wolde
That ech a wight wroghte,
Or in dikynge or in delvynge,
Or travaillynge in preieres;
Contemplatif lif or actif lif
Crist wolde thei wroghte.
The Sauter seith in the Psalme 4300
Of _Beati omnes_,
The freke that fedeth hymself
With his feithful labour,
He is blessed by the book
In body and in soule."
_Labores manuum tuarum, etc._

"Yet I preie yow," quod Piers,
"_Par charité_, and ye konne
Any leef of leche-craft,
Lere it me, my deere; 4310
For some of my servauntz,
And myself bothe,
Of al a wike werche noght,
So oure wombe aketh."

"I woot wel," quod Hunger,
"What siknesse yow eyleth;
Ye han manged over muche,
And that maketh yow grone.
Ac I hote thee," quod Hunger,
"As thow thyn hele wilnest, 4320
That thow drynke no day
Er thow dyne som what.
Ete noght, I hote thee,
{133}
Er hunger thee take,
And sende thee of his sauce
To savore with thi lippes;
And keep som til soper-tyme,
And sitte noght to longe,
And rys up er appetit
Have eten his fille. 4330
Lat noght sire Surfet
Sitten at thi borde.
Leve hym noght, for he is lecherous,
And likerous of tunge,
And after many maner metes
His mawe is a-fyngred.

"And if thow diete thee thus,
I dar legge myne eris,
That Phisik shal hise furred hodes
For his fode selle, 4340
And his cloke of Calabre,
With alle the knappes of golde,
And be fayn, by my feith!
His phisik to lete,
And lerne to laboure with lond,
For liflode is swete.
For murthereris are manye leches,
Lord hem amende!
They do men deye thorugh hir drynkes,
Er destynee it wolde." 4350
"By seint Poul!" quod Piers,
"Thise arn profitable wordes!
Wend now, Hunger, whan thow wolt,
That wel be thow evere!
For this is a lovely lesson,
Lord it thee for-yelde!"

"Bi-hote God!" quod Hunger,
{134}
"Hennes ne wole I wende,
Til I have dyned bi this day,
And y-dronke bothe." 4360

"I have no peny," quod Piers,
"Pulettes to bugge,
Ne neither gees ne grys,
But two grene cheses,
A fewe cruddes and creme,
And an haver cake,
And two loves of benes and bran
Y-bake for my fauntes;
And yet I seye, by my soule!
I have no salt bacon, 4370
Ne no cokeney, by Crist!
Coloppes for to maken.

"Ac I have percile and porettes,
And manye cole plauntes,
And ek a cow and a calf,
And a cart mare
To drawe a-feld my donge,
The while the droghte lasteth;
And by this liflode we mote lyve
Til Lammesse tyme. 4380
And by that, I hope to have
Hervest in my crofte,
And thanne may I dighte thi dyner,
As me deere liketh."

Al the povere peple tho
Pescoddes fetten,
Benes and baken apples
Thei broghte in hir lappes,
Chibolles and chervelles,
And ripe chiries manye, 4390
And profrede Piers this present
{135}
To plese with Hunger.

Al Hunger eet in haste,
And axed after moore.
Thanne povere folk, for fere,
Fedden Hunger yerne,
With grene poret and pesen,
To poisone hym thei thoghte.
By that it neghed neer hervest,
And newe corn cam to chepyng; 4400
Thanne was folk fayn,
And fedde Hunger with the beste,
With goode ale, as Gloton taghte,
And garte Hunger go slepe.

And tho wolde Wastour noght werche,
But wandren aboute,
Ne no beggere ete breed
That benes inne were,
But of coket and cler-matyn,
Or ellis of clene whete; 4410
Ne noon halfpeny ale
In none wise drynke,
But of the beste and of the brunneste
That in burghe is to selle.

Laborers that have no land
To lyve on but hire handes,
Deyned noght to dyne a day
Nyght-olde wortes;
May no peny ale hem paye,
Ne no pece of bacone, 4420
But if it be fresshe flessh outher fisshe,
Fryed outher y-bake,
And that _chaud_ and _plus chaud_,
For chillynge of hir mawe;
And but if he be heighliche hyred;
{136}
Ellis wole he chide,
And that he was werkman wroght
Waille the tyme,
Ayeins Catons counseil
Comseth he to jangle. 4430
_Paupertatis onus patienter ferre memento._ =

He greveth hym ageyn God,
And gruccheth ageyn Reson,
And thanne corseth he the kyng,
And al his counseil after,
Swiche lawes to loke
Laborers to greve.
Ac whiles Hunger was hir maister,
Ther wolde noon of hem chide, 4440
Ne stryven ayeins his statut,
So sterneliche he loked.

Ac I warne yow, werkmen,
Wynneth whil ye mowe,
For Hunger hiderward
Hasteth hym faste.
He shal a-wake with water
Wastours to chaste;
Er fyve be fulfilled,
Swich famyn shal a-ryse, 4450
Thorugh flodes and thorugh foule wedres
Fruytes shul faille,
And so seide Saturne,
And sente yow to warne.

Whan ye se the sonne a-mys,
And two monkes heddes,
And a mayde have the maistrie,
And multiplie by eighte,
Thanne shal deeth with-drawe,
{137}
And derthe be justice, 4460
And Dawe the dykere
Deye for hunger;
But God of his goodnesse
Graunte us a trewe. 4464

* * * * *

{138}

_Passus Septimus de Visione, ut supra._

Treuthe herde telle her 4465
And to Piers he sente,
To maken his teme
And tilien the erthe,
And purchaced hym a pardone
_A poena et a culpa_, 4470
For hym and for hise heires,
For evere moore after,
And bad hym holde hym at home,
And erien hise leyes.
And alle that holpen hym to erye,
To sette or to sowe,
Or any oother mestier
That myghte Piers availle,
Pardon with Piers Plowman
Truthe hath y-graunted. 4480

Kynges and knyghtes,
That kepen holy chirche,
And rightfully in remes
Rulen the peple,
Han pardon thorugh purgatorie
To passen ful lightly,
With patriarkes and prophetes
In paradis to be felawe.
{139}

Bysshopes y-blessed,
If thei ben as thei sholde, 4490
Legistres of bothe lawes,
The lewed therwith to preche,
And in as muche as thei mowe
Amenden alle synfulle,
Arn peres with the Apostles,
This pardon Piers sheweth,
And at the day of dome
At the heighe deys sitte.

Marchauntz in the margyne
Hadde manye yeres, 4500
Ac noon _a poena et a culpa_
The pope nolde hem graunte,
For thei holde noght hir hali-dayes
As holy chirche techeth,
And for thei swere by hir soule,
And so God moste hem helpe,
Ayein clene Conscience,
Hir catel to selle.

Ac under his secret seel
Truthe sente hem a lettre, 4510
That thei sholde buggen boldely
That hem best liked,
And sithenes selle it ayein,
And save the wynnyng,
And amende meson-dieux thermyd,
And mys-eise folk helpe,
And wikkede weyes
Wightly amende,
And do boote to brugges
That to-broke were, 4520
Marien maydenes,
Or maken hem nonnes,
{140}
Povere peple and prisons
Fynden hem hir foode,
And sette scolers to scole,
Or to som othere craftes,
Releve religion,
And renten hem bettre;
"And I shal sende yow myselve
Seint Michel myn archangel, 4530
That no devel shal yow dere,
Ne fere yow in youre deying,
And witen yow fro wanhope,
If ye wol thus werche,
And sende youre soules in saufté
To my seintes in joye."

Thanne were marchauntz murie,
Manye wepten for joye,
And preiseden Piers the Plowman,
That purchaced this bulle. 4540

Men of lawe leest pardon hadde,
That pleteden for Mede;
For the Sauter saveth hem noght,
Swiche as take giftes,
And nameliche of innocentz
That noon yvel ne konneth.
_Super innocentem munera non accipies._ =

Pledours sholde peynen hem
To plede for swiche and helpe; 4550
Princes and prelates
Sholde paie for hire travaille.
_A regibus et principibus erit merces eorum._ =

Ac many a justice and jurour
Wolde for Johan do moore
{141}
Than _pro Dei pietate_,
Leve thow noon oother.

Ac he that spendeth his speche,
And speketh for the povere 4560
That is innocent and nedy,
And no man apeireth,
Conforteth hym in that caas
Withouten coveitise of giftes,
And sheweth lawe for oure Lordes love,
As he it hath y-lerned,
Shal no devel at his deeth day
Deren hym a myte,
That he ne worth saaf and his soule,
The Sauter bereth witnesse: 4570
_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo?_ =

Ac to bugge water, ne wynd,
Ne wit, ne fir the ferthe,
Thise foure the fader of hevene
Made to this foold in commune.
Thise ben Truthes tresores
Trewe folk to helpe,
That nevere shul wexe ne wanye,
Withouten God hymselve. 4580

Whan thei drawen on to deye,
And indulgences wolde have,
Hir pardon is ful petit
At hir partyng hennes,
That any mede of mene men
For hir motyng taketh.
Ye legistres and lawieres,
Holdeth this for truthe,
That if that I lye,
Mathew is to blame, 4590
{142}
For he bad me make yow this,
And this proverbe me tolde,
_Quodcunque vultis ut faciant vobis
homines, facite eis._

Alle libbynge laborers
That lyven with hir hondes,
That treweliche taken,
And treweliche wynnen,
And lyven in love and in lawe,
For hir lowe hertes 4600
Haveth the same absolucion
That sent was to Piers.

Beggeres ne bidderes
Ne beth noght in the bulle,
But if the suggestion be sooth
That shapeth hem to begge.
For he that beggeth or bit,
But if he have nede,
He is fals with the feend,
And defraudeth the nedy; 4610
And also he bi-gileth the gyvere,
Ageynes his wille;
For if he wiste he were noght nedy,
He wolde gyve that another
That were moore nedy than he,
So the nedieste sholde be holpe.
Caton kenneth me thus,
And the clerc of stories;
_Cui des videto_,
Is Catons techyng. 4620

And in the stories he techeth
To bistowe thyn almesse.
_Sit elemosina tua in manu tua,
donec studes cui des._
{143}

Ac Gregory was a good man,
And bad us gyven alle
That asketh for his love
That us al leneth.
_Non eligas cui miserearis, ne forte
prætereas illum qui meretur 4630
accipere. Quia incertum est
pro quo Deo magis placeas._

For wite ye nevere who is worthi,
Ac God woot who hath nede;
In hym that taketh is the trecherie,
If any treson walke.
For he that yeveth, yeldeth,
And yarketh hym to reste;
And he that biddeth, borweth,
And bryngeth hymself in dette. 4640
For beggeres borwen evere mo,
And hir borgh is God almyghty,
To yelden hem that yeveth hem,
And yet usure moore.
_Quare non dedisti pecuniam meam
ad mensam, ut ego veniam cum
usuris exigere?_

For-thi biddeth noght, ye beggeres,
But if ye have gret nede;
For who so hath to buggen hym breed, 4650
The book bereth witnesse,
He hath y-nough that hath breed y-nough,
Though he have noght ellis.
_Satis dives est, qui non indiget pane._

Lat usage be youre solas,
Of seintes lyves redyng,
The book banneth beggerie,
{144}
And blameth hem in this manere:
_Junior fui, et jam senui, et non vidi
justum derelictum, nec semen 4660
ejus, etc._

For ye lyve in no love,
Ne no lawe holde;
Manye of yow ne wedde noght
The womman that ye with deele,
But as wilde bestes with 'wehee!'
Worthen uppe and werchen,
And bryngen forth barnes,
That bastardes men calleth;
Or the bak or som boon 4670
He breketh in his youthe,
And siththe goon faiten with youre fauntes
For evere moore after.
Ther is moore mys-shapen peple
Amonges thise beggeres,
Than of alle manere men
That on this moolde walketh.
And thei that lyve thus hir lif,
Mowe lothe the tyme
That evere thei were men wroght, 4680
Whan thei shal hennes fare.
Ac olde men and hore,
Than help-lees ben of strengthe,
And wommen with childe
That werche ne mowe,
Blynde and bed-reden,
And broken hire membres,
That taken thise myschiefs mekeliche,
As mesels and othere,
Han as pleyn pardon 4690
As the plowman hymselve.
{145}
For love of hir lowe hertes,
Oure Lord hath hem graunted
Hir penaunce and hir purgatorie
Here on this erthe.

"Piers," quod a preest thoo,
"Thi pardon moste I rede;
For I wol construe ech clause,
And kenne it thee on Englisshe."

And Piers at his preiere 4700
The pardon unfoldeth;
And I by-hynde hem bothe
Biheld al the bulle,
And in two lynes it lay,
And noght a leef more,
And was writen right thus,
In witnesse of Truthe:
_Et qui bona egerunt, ibunt in vitam eternam. =
Qui vero mala, in ignem eternum._ 4710

"Peter," quod the preest thoo,
"I kan no pardon fynde,
But do wel and have wel,
And God shal have thi soule,
And do yvel and have yvel,
Hope thow noon oother,
But after thi deeth-day
The devel shal have thi soule."
And Piers for pure tene
Pulled it a-tweyne, 4720
And seide _Si ambulavero in medio
umbræ mortis, non timebo mala,
quoniam tu mecum es._

"I shal cessen of my sowyng," quod Piers, =
{146}
"And swynke noght so harde,
Ne aboute my bely joye
So bisy be na-moore;
Of preieres and of penaunce
My plough shal ben herafter, 4730
And wepen whan I sholde slepe,
Though whete-breed me faille.

"The prophete his payn eet
In penaunce and in sorwe,
By that the Sauter seith,
So dide othere manye;
That loveth God lelly,
His liflode is ful esy.
_Fuerunt mihi lacrimæ meæ panes
die ac nocte._ 4740

"And but if Luc lye,
He lereth us by foweles,
We sholde noght be to bisy
Aboute the worldes blisse;
_Ne soliciti sitis_,
He seith in the Gospel,
And sheweth us by ensamples
Us selve to wisse.
The foweles in the feld,
Who fynt hem mete at wynter? 4750
Have thei no gerner to go to,
But God fynt hem alle."

"What!" quod the preest to Perkyn,
"Peter! as me thynketh,
Thow art lettred a litel:--
Who lerned thee on boke?"

"Abstynence the abbesse," quod Piers,
"Myn a.b.c. me taughte;
And Conscience cam afterward,
And kenned me muche moore." 4760
{147}

"Were thow a preest," quod he,
"Thou myghtest preche where thou sholdest,
As divinour in divinité,
With _Dixit insipiens_ to thi teme."

"Lewed lorel!" quod Piers,
"Litel lokestow on the Bible;
On Salomons sawes
Selden thow biholdest:
_Ejice derisores et jurgia cum eis, ne
crescant, etc._" 4770

The preest and Perkyn
Opposeden either oother.
And I thorugh hir wordes a-wook,
And waited aboute,
And seigh the sonne in the south
Sitte that tyme,
Mete-lees and monei-lees
On Malverne hulles,
Musynge on this metels,
And my wey ich yede. 4780

Many tyme this metels
Hath maked me to studie
Of that I seigh slepynge,
If it so be myghte,
And also for Piers the Plowman
Ful pencif in herte,
And which a pardon Piers hadde
Al the peple to conforte,
And how the preest impugned it
With two propre wordes. 4790
Ac I have no savour in songewarie,
For I se it ofte faille;
Caton and canonistres
Counseillen us to leve
{148}
To sette sadnesse in songewarie,
For _sompnia ne cures_.

Ac for the book Bible
Bereth witnesse
How Daniel divined
The dreem of a kyng, 4800
That was Nabugodonosor
Nempned of clerkes.

Daniel seide, "Sire kyng,
Thi dremels bitokneth
That unkouthe knyghtes shul come
Thi kyngdom to cleyme;
Amonges lower lordes
Thi lond shal be departed."
And as Daniel divined,
In dede it fel after; 4810
The kyng lees his lordshipe,
And lower men it hadde.

And Joseph mette merveillously
How the moone and the sonne
And the ellevene sterres
Hailsed hym alle.

Thanne Jacob jugged
Josephes swevene.
"Beau fitz," quod his fader,
"For defaute we shullen, 4820
I myself and my sones,
Seche thee for nede."

It bifel as his fader seide,
In Pharaoes tyme,
That Joseph was justice
Egipte to loke;
It bifel as his fader tolde,
Hise frendes there hym soughte,
And al this maketh me
{149}
On this metels to thynke. 4830
And how the preest preved
No pardon to Do-wel,
And demed that Do-wel
Indulgences passed,
Biennals and triennals,
And bisshopes lettres;
And how Do-wel at the day of dome
Is digneliche underfongen,
And passeth al the pardon
Of seint Petres cherche. 4840

Now hath the pope power
Pardon to graunte the peple,
Withouten any penaunce
To passen into hevene;
This is oure bileve,
As lettred men us techeth:
_Quodcumque ligaveris super terram,
erit ligatum et in coelis, etc._ =

And so I leve leelly, 4850
Lordes forbode ellis!
That pardon and penaunce
And preieres doon save
Soules that have synned
Seven sithes dedly;
Ac to truste to thise triennals,
Trewely me thynketh,
Is noght so siker for the soule,
Certes, as is Do-wel.

For-thi I rede yow, renkes, 4860
That riche ben on this erthe,
Upon trust of youre tresor
Triennals to have,
Be ye never the bolder
{150}
To breake the .x. hestes;
And namely ye maistres,
Meires and jugges,
That have the welthe of this world
And for wise men ben holden,
To purchace yow pardon 4870
And the popes bulles.
At the dredful dome,
Whan dede shulle rise,
And comen alle to-fore Crist
Acountes to yelde,
How thow laddest thi lif here,
And hise lawes keptest,
And how thow didest day by day,
The doom wole reherce.
A poke ful of pardon there, 4880
Ne provincials lettres,
Theigh ye be founde in the fraternité
Of alle the foure ordres,
And have indulgences double-fold,
But if Do-wel yow helpe,
I sette youre patentes and youre pardon
At one pies hele.

For-thi I counseille alle Cristene
To crie God mercy,
And Marie his moder 4890
Be oure meene bitwene,
That God gyve us grace here,
Er we go hennes,
Swiche werkes to werche
While we ben here,
That after oure deeth-day
Do-wel reherce
At the day of dome,
We dide as he highte. 4899

* * * * *

{151}

_Passus Octavus de Visione, et incipit Do-wel._

Thus y-robed in russet 4900
I romed aboute
Al a somer seson
For to seke Do-wel;
And frayned ful ofte
Of folk that I mette,
If any wight wiste
Wher Do-wel was at inne;
And what man he myghte be
Of many man I asked.

Was nevere wight, as I wente, 4910
That me wisse kouthe
Where this leode lenged,
Lasse ne moore;
Til it bi-fel on a Friday
Two freres I mette,
Maistres of the menours,
Men of grete witte.
I hailsed hem hendely,
As I hadde y-lerned,
And preide hem _par charité_, 4920
Er thei passed ferther,
If thei knewe any contree
Or costes, as thei wente,
{152}
"Where that Do-wel dwelleth
Dooth me to witene."
For thei be men of this moolde
That moost wide walken,
And knowen contrees and courtes,
And many kynnes places,
Bothe princes paleises 4930
And povere mennes cotes,
And Do-wel and Do-yvele
Wher thei dwelle bothe.

"Amonges us," quod the Menours,
"That man is dwellynge,
And evere hath, as I hope,
And evere shal herafter."

"_Contra_," quod I as a clerc,
And comsed to disputen,
And seide hem soothly, 4940
"_Septies in die cadit justus._
Sevene sithes, seith the book,
Synneth the rightfulle;
And who so synneth," I seide,
"Dooth yvele, as me thynketh;
And Do-wel and Do-yvele
Mowe noght dwelle togideres.
_Ergo_ he nys noght alwey
Amonges yow freres;
He is outher while ellis where 4950
To wisse the peple."

"I shal seye thee, my sone,"
Seide the frere thanne,
"How seven sithes the sadde man
On a day synneth;
By a forbisne," quod the frere,
"I shal thee faire shewe.
{153}
Lat brynge a man in a boot
Amydde the brode watre,
The wynd and the water 4960
And the boot waggyng
Maketh the man many a tyme
To falle and to stonde;
For stonde he never so stif,
He stumbleth if he meve,
Ac yet is he saaf and sound,
And so hym bihoveth.
For if he ne arise the rather,
And raughte to the steere,
The wynd wolde with the water 4970
The boot over throwe;
And thanne were his lif lost,
Through lachesse of hymselve.

"And thus it falleth," quod the frere,
"By folk here on erthe;
The water is likned to the world
That wanyeth and wexeth;
The goodes of this grounde arn lik
To the grete wawes,
That as wyndes and wedres 4980
Walketh aboute;
The boot is likned to oure body
That brotel is of kynde,
That thorugh the fend and the flesshe
And the frele worlde
Synneth the sadde man
A day seven sithes.

"Ac dedly synne doth he noght,
For Do-wel hym kepeth;
And that is charité the champion, 4990
Chief help ayein synne;
{154}
For he strengheth men to stonde,
And steereth mannes soule,
And though the body bowe
As boot dooth in the watre,
Ay is thi soule saaf,
But if thow wole thiselve
Do a deedly synne,
And drenche so thi soule,
God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe, 5000
If thiself liketh.
For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,
To yeme wel thiselve,
And that is wit and free-wil,
To every wight a porcion,
To fleynge foweles,
To fisshes and to beestes;
Ac man hath moost therof,
And moost is to blame,
But if he werche wel therwith, 5010
As Do-wel hym teacheth."

"I have no kynde knowyng," quod I,
"To conceyven alle youre wordes;
Ac if I may lyve and loke,
I shal go lerne bettre."

"I bikenne thee Crist," quod he,
"That on cros deyde!"
And I seide, "The same
Save yow fro myschaunce,
And gyve yow grace on this grounde 5020
Goode men to worthe!"

And thus I wente wide wher
Walkyng myn one,
By a wilde wildernesse,
{155}
And by a wodes side;
Blisse of the briddes
Broughte me a-slepe,
And under a lynde upon a launde
Lened I a stounde,
To lythe the layes 5030
Tho lovely foweles made.
Murthe of hire mouthes
Made me ther to sleple;
The marveillouseste metels
Mette me thanne
That ever dremed wight
In world, as I wene.

A muche man, as me thoughte,
And lik to myselve,
Cam and called me 5040
By my kynde name.

"What artow?" quod I tho,
"That thow my name knowest."

"That thou woost wel," quod he,
"And no wight bettre."

"Woot I what thow art?"
"Thought," seide he thanne;
"I have sued thee this seven yeer,
Seye thow me no rather."

"Artow Thought," quod I thoo, 5050
"Thow koudest me wisse,
Where that Do-wel dwelleth,
And do me that to knowe."

"Do-wel and Do-bet,
And Do-best the thridde," quod he,
"Arn thre fair vertues,
And ben noght fer to fynde.
Who so is trewe of his tunge,
{156}
And of his two handes,
And thorugh his labour, or thorugh his land, 5060
His liflode wynneth,
And is trusty of his tailende,
Taketh but his owene,
And his noght dronklewe ne dedeynous,
Do-wel hym folweth.

"Do-bet dooth right thus:
Ac he dooth muche moore;
He is as lowe as a lomb,
And lovelich of speche,
And helpeth alle men 5070
After that hem nedeth.
The bagges and the bigirdles,
He hath to-broke hem alle,
That the erl Avarous
Heeld and hise heires.
And thus with Mammonaes moneie
He hath maad hym frendes,
And is ronne to religion,
And hath rendred the Bible,
And precheth to the peple 5080
Seint Poules wordes:
_Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum
sitis ipsi sapientes._

"And suffreth the unwise
With yow for to libbe;
And with glad wille dooth hem good,
For so God yow hoteth.

"Do-best is above bothe,
And bereth a bisshopes crosse,
Is hoked on that oon ende 5090
To halie men fro helle;
A pik is on that potente,
{157}
To putte a-down the wikked
That waiten any wikkednesse
Do-wel to tene.
And Do-wel and Do-bet
Amonges hem han ordeyned,
To crowne oon to be kyng
To rulen hem bothe;
That if Do-wel or Do-bet 5100
Dide ayein Do-best,
Thanne shal the kyng come
And casten hem in irens,
And but if Do-best bede for hem,
Thei to be ther for evere.

"Thus Do-wel and Do-bet,
And Do-best the thridde,
Crouned oon to the kyng
To kepen hem alle,
And to rule the reme 5110
By hire thre wittes,
And noon oother wise
But as thei thre assented."

I thonked Thoght tho,
That he me thus taughte.
"Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying;
I coveite to lerne
How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best
Doon among the peple."

"But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght, 5120
"Wher tho thre dwelle,
Ellis woot I noon that kan
That now is alyve."

Thoght and I thus
Thre daies we yeden,
Disputyng upon Do-wel
{158}
Day after oother;
And ere we were war,
With Wit gonne we mete.
He was long and lene, 5130
Lik to noon other;
Was no pride on his apparaille,
Ne poverte neither;
Sad of his semblaunt,
And of softe chere.
I dorste meve no matere
To maken hym to jangle,
But as I bad Thoght thoo
Be mene bitwene,
And pute forth som purpos 5140
To preven hise wittes,
What was Do-wel fro Do-bet,
And Do-best from hem bothe.

Thanne Thoght in that tyme
Seide thise wordes:
"Where Do-wel, Do-bet,
And Do-best ben in londe,
Here is Wil wolde wite,
If Wit koude teche hym;
And wheither he be man or womman
This man fayn wolde aspie,
And werchen as thei thre wolde,
Thus is his entente." 5153

* * * * *

{159}

_Passus Nonus de Visione, ut supra, et Primus de Do-wel_

"Sire Do-wel dwelleth," quod Wit, 5154
"Noght a day hennes,
In a castel that Kynde made
Of four kynnes thynges;
Of erthe and of eyr it is maad,
Medled togideres,
With wynd and with water 5160
Witterly enjoyned.
Kynde hath closed therinne
Craftily withalle
A lemman that he loveth
Lik to hymselve;
_Anima_ she hatte.
Ac envye hir hateth,
A proud prikere of Fraunce,
_Princeps hujus mundi_,
And wolde wynne hire awey 5170
With wiles, and he myghte.

"Ac Kynde knoweth this wel,
And kepeth hire the bettre,
And dooth hire with sire Do-wel,
Is duc of thise marches.

"Do-bet is hire damyselle,
Sire Do-weles doughter,
{160}
To serven this lady leelly
Bothe late and rathe.

"Do-best is above bothe, 5180
A bisshopes peere;
That he bit moot be do,
He ruleth hem alle.
_Anima_, that lady,
Is lad by his leryng.
Ac the constable of that castel,
That kepeth al the wacche,
Is a wis knyght withalle,
Sire Inwit he hatte,
And hathe fyve faire sones 5190
Bi his firste wyve;
Sire Se-wel, and Sey-wel,
And Here-wel the hende,
Sire Werch-wel-with-thyn-hand,
A wight man of strengthe,
And sire Godefray Go-wel;
Grete lordes, for sothe.
Thise fyve ben set
To kepe this lady _Anima_,
Til Kynde come or sende 5200
To saven hire for evere."

"What kynnes thyng is Kynde?" quod I,
"Kanstow me telle?"

"Kynde," quod Wit, "is a creatour
Of alle kynnes thynges,
Fader and formour
Of al that evere was maked;
And that is the grete God
That gynnyng hadde nevere,
Lord of lif and of light, 5210
Of lisse and of peyne.
{161}
Aungeles and alle thyng
Arn at his wille;
Ac man is hym moost lik
Of marc and of shafte;
For thorugh the word that he spak
Woxen forth beestes.
_Dixit et facta sunt._

"And made man likkest
To hymself one, 5220
And Eve of his ryb-bon,
Withouten any mene,
For he was synguler hymself;
And seide _faciamus_,
As who seith moore moot herto
Than my word oone,
My myght moot helpe
Forth with my speche.
Right as a lord sholde make lettres,
And hym lakked parchemyn, 5230
Though he koude write never so wel,
If he hadde no penne,
The lettre, for al the lordshipe,
I leve were nevere y-maked.

"And so it semeth by hym,
As the Bible telleth,
There he seide _Dixit et facta sunt_,
He moste werche with his word,
And his wit shewe.
And in this manere was man maad, 5240
Thorugh myght of God almighty,
With his word and werkmanshipe,
And with lif to laste.
And thus God gaf hym a goost,
Thorugh the godhede of hevene,
{162}
And of his grete grace
Graunted hym blisse,
And that is lif that ay shal laste
To al his lynage after.
And that is the castel that Kynde made, 5250
_Caro_ it hatte,
And is as muche to mene
As man with a soule;
And that he wroghte with werk,
And with word bothe,
Thorgh myght of the magesté
Man was y-maked.

"Inwit and alle wittes
Closed ben therinne,
For love of the lady _Anima_, 5260
That lif is y-nempned;
Over al in mannes body
He walketh and wandreth.
And in the herte is hir hoom
And hir mooste reste.

"Ac Inwit is in the heed,
And to the herte he loketh;
What _Anima_ is leef or looth,
He lat hire at his wille;
For after the grace of God, 5270
The gretteste is Inwit.

"Muche wo worth that man
That mys-ruleth his Inwit;
And that ben glotons glubberes,
Hir God is hire wombe.
_Quorum deus venter est._

"For thei serven Sathan,
Hir soules shal he have.
That lyven synful lif here,
{163}
Hir soule is lich the devil; 5280
And alle that lyven good lif
Are lik to God almyghty,
_Qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, etc._ =

"Alas! that drynke shal for-do
That God deere boughte,
And dooth God forsaken hem
That he shoop to his liknesse.
_Amen dico vobis, nescio vos. Et alibi:
Et dimisi eos secundum desideria 5290
eorum._

"Fools that fauten Inwit,
I fynde that holy chirche
Sholde fynden hem that hem fauted,
And fader-lese children,
And widewes that han noght wherwith
To wynnen hem hir foode,
Madde men, and maydenes
That help-lese were,
Alle thise lakken Inwit, 5300
And loore bihoveth.

"Of this matere I myghte
Make a long tale,
And fynde fele witnesses
Among the foure doctours;
And that I lye noght of that I lere thee,
Luc bereth witnesse.

"God-fadres and god-modres,
That seen hire god-children
At mys-eise and at myschief, 5310
And mowe hem amende,
Shul have penaunce in purgatorie
But thei hem helpe.
{164}
For moore bilongeth to the litel barn,
Er he the lawe knowe,
Than nempnynge of a name,
And he never the wiser.
Sholde no cristene creature
Cryen at the yate,
Ne faille payn ne potage, 5320
And prelates dide as thei sholden.
A Jew wolde noght se a Jew
Go janglyng for defaute,
For alle the mebles on this moolde,
And he amende it myghte.

"Alas! that a cristene creature
Shal be unkynde til another;
Syn Jewes, that we jugge
Judas felawes,
Eyther of hem helpeth oother 5330
Of that that hem nedeth.
Whi nel we cristene
Of Cristes good be as kynde
As Jewes, that ben oure lores-men?
Shame to us alle!
The commune for hir unkyndenesse,
I drede me, shul abye.

"Bisshopes shul be blamed
For beggeres sake.
He is wors than Judas, 5340
That gyveth a japer silver,
And biddeth the beggere go,
For his broke clothes.
_Proditor est prælatus cum Juda,
qui patrimonium Christi mimis
distribuit. Et alibi: Perniciosus
dispensator est, qui res
{165}
pauperum Christi inutiliter
consumit._

"He dooth noght wel that dooth thus, 5350
Ne drat noght God almyghty;
He loveth noght Salomons sawes,
That sapience taughte.
_Initium sapientiæ, timor Domini._

"That dredeth God, he dooth wel;
That dredeth him for love,
And noght for drede of vengeaunce,
Dooth therfore the bettre.

"He dooth best that with-draweth hym
By daye and by nyghte, 5360
To spille any speche
Or any space of tyme.
_Qui offendit in uno, in omnibus est reus._ =

"Lesynge of tyme,
Truthe woot the sothe,
Is moost y-hated upon erthe
Of hem that ben in hevene;
And siththe to spille speche,
That spicerie is of grace, 5370
And Goddes gle-man,
And a game of hevene.
Wolde nevere the feithful fader
This fithele were un-tempred,
Ne his gle-man a gedelyng,
A goere to tavernes.

"To alle trewe tidy men
That travaille desiren,
Oure Lord loveth hem and lent
Loude outher stille 5380
{166}
Grace to go to hem,
And of-gon hir liflode.
_Inquirentes autem Dominum non
minuentur omni bono._

"Trewe wedded libbynge folk
In this world is Do-wel,
For thei mote werche and wynne,
And the world sustene.
For of hir kynde thei come
That confessours ben nempned, 5390
Kynges and knyghtes,
Kaysers and cherles,
Maidenes and martires,
Out of o man come.
The wif was maad the weye
For to helpe werche;
And thus was wedlok y-wroght
With a mene persone,
First, by the fadres wille,
And the frendes conseille; 5400
And sithenes by assent of hemself,
As thei two myghte acorde.
And thus was wedlok y-wroght,
And God hymself it made
In erthe and in hevene,
Hymself bereth witnesse.